


all the better to see you with

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: Fic-Tac-Toe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, F/M, Fic-Tac-Toe, Fluff, HD Birthday Bash 2018, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 17:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14982509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: The worst that’ll happen is Harry will try on a few ridiculous frames, and Draco will probably delight immensely in that. That’s really not so bad.Harry was wrong. So very wrong.





	all the better to see you with

**Author's Note:**

> here's my first mark for [fic-tac-toe!](https://hd-birthdaybash.livejournal.com/24965.html) big thanks to hannah for beta'ing, as always! 
> 
> i'm aiming to get my whole bingo card hit, and this is the first of 4 squares i've got completed. stay tuned!

It starts—as most things involving Draco do—with a snippy remark.

 

“ _Honestly_ , Potter, how can you _possibly_ see with these?”

Harry’s glasses are on Draco’s face, perched precariously on his nose; Draco’s holding the arms of the glasses to the sides of his head as if they might slip off further otherwise. The round, wiry frames look silly on his pointy face, and Harry itches to tell him so.

“You really don’t want to know what my eyesight is like without them,” Harry says instead as he makes a grab for the glasses. Draco ducks away from him, shaking his head. The further across the room he gets, the blurrier he becomes. Harry stops beside a bedpost and glares. “Draco, c’mon.”

Draco continues to peer owlishy through the lenses, though Harry can barely make out the details of his lover being a prat. He’s known Draco long enough to know what a git he is and what that looks like, even without his glasses.

“Draco,” Harry says again. _It’s too early for this_ , Harry thinks. It’s always too early concerning Draco; the other man is a _morning person_ , and Harry hates it. Now, in particular.

Draco sighs, big and overexaggerated. “Fine, you’re no fun.” He trots back over and thrusts the glasses into Harry’s waiting hand. “Are you _ever_ going to replace those?” He asks as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Harry takes a moment to wipe at the lenses with the hem of his tee—noting Draco’s derisive snort—before slipping his glasses on. He blinks a few times, then finally looks at Draco, who’s now starkly clear and posh as ever. He’s in lightweight trousers and a button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbow. He looks model-esque compared to Harry’s boxers and tee combination.

“Seriously, Harry, you’ve had those things for how long?”

Harry shrugs. “They’ve got spells on ‘em to keep the prescription up to date. And the frames still hold up.”

“Not to today’s fashion trends, they don’t.”

“Because that’s something I regularly concern myself with,” Harry says with a roll of his eyes. “They work, they suit me. They’re fine.”

Draco gnaws on his lower lip thoughtfully; the pale skin blooms abused pink under his pearly teeth, and Harry is glad he’s able to see that. It’s a nice, if distracting sight. Always has been, always will be, he thinks. Harry stares at Draco’s mouth a little longer than is really appropriate before realizing Draco hasn’t spoken and is still deep in thought.

Harry reaches out and presses his thumb to Draco’s chin, barely skimming his bottom lip. Draco releases the battered skin with a sigh. For a moment, Harry thinks the conversation is over and Draco will let it go (it’s a conversation they’ve had more than a handful of times previously, anyway). He lets his hand drop from Draco’s chin and takes a moment to stretch his exhausted muscle, still heavy with sleep.

“Would you at least try some new frames?” Draco asks suddenly.

Harry’s brow furrows. “Why?” His face scrunches up as he stretches, and as his eyes shut he loses sight of Draco’s determined expression.

“Change is good.” That’s all Draco says.

Relaxing, Harry stares for a second and scrutinizes his boyfriend. He runs a critical eye over Draco from head to toe, before deciding to argue just isn’t worth it. The worst that’ll happen is Harry will try on a few ridiculous frames, and Draco will probably delight immensely in that. That’s really not so bad.

-

Harry was wrong. So very wrong.

He stands, blind, off to one side of the shop. Draco is flitting from shelf to shelf with the harried shop assistant close on his heels. Harry can only see vague blurs—Draco in swathes of silver, the assistant in deep burgundy—but he’s content with that. The less involved he is, the better.

They’ve been in the shop verging on two hours; first it was a fight to figure out whether Harry needed a new exam or not. Eventually, he ended up having it done just to shut Draco up, even if the silence was only temporary. Then, the assistant had taken Harry’s current frames and accidentally— _accidentally, sure, that’s likely_ , Harry thinks—vanished them.

That had Draco in a tizzy, to be honest, even though Harry is fairly sure it was Draco’s plan all along. The situation had only devolved from there. Draco made it his personal mission to find an appropriate pair of new frames for Harry. The assistant had tried to, well, _assist_ , and Draco had wanted no help whatsoever. It’d been a flurry of activity ever since.

Harry’s nose feels a bit raw with how many glasses he’s shoved on and yanked off in such a short period of time.

Eventually, the commotion quiets down and Draco appears before Harry. He’s holding a single set of frames and presents them like a crown jewel.

“These,” he declares.

With a fondly exasperated sigh, Harry takes the proffered glasses and slips them on. The lenses are already charmed as needed so his eyes adjust quickly. Everything in the shop comes into startling clarity, even better than when they first entered. He looks around and notices that even the frazzled assistant looks pleased, judging by the way her wrinkles contort into a vaguely pleasant shape.

Draco makes an odd half-squeak in the back of his throat but nods approvingly. “Excellent choice.”

“Thanks,” Harry says sarcastically. A mirror floats over to him then and Harry holds it by the brassy handle. The glass expands momentarily to capture all of his face and Harry finally examines how the new frames look on him.

He can admit they’re not ones he ever would’ve picked for himself. They’re very modern, not something he’s seen any other wizard or witch wearing before. Harry can also admit, only a little reluctantly, that they do suit him. The square shape accentuates the angles of his cheeks, and the thick black frames surround his eyes in a way that’s more highlighting than overshadowing.

“You like?” Draco asks, a little breathy.

Grinning ruefully, Harry nods. “They’re good, yeah. I’ll take ‘em.”

Draco’s face splits into a grin and he darts forward to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Excellent, we’ll just pay and—?”

Harry catches Draco by the elbow as he turns to the shop assistant. “One sec.” Draco faces him slowly, confused. “I want you to try some out.”

Draco blanches, and Harry does feel a _little_ bad. “That’s really not necessary. My eyesight is impeccable.”

“Everyone thinks that, and then you get glasses and you realize trees have _leaves_.”

“I know that trees have leaves, Potter. I’m not daft.”

Harry shakes his head. “Just do the exam and find out, yeah? For me?” His hand on Draco’s elbow slides up to grasp the ball of Draco’s shoulder, then makes a fast decline to the small of Draco’s back. The motion pulls them closer together, and Draco hiccups a soft gasp.

“It’ll only take a moment,” Harry murmurs.

“That’s true!” The assistant pipes up suddenly. “Only a mo’!”

Draco glares at Harry and extricates himself from his grasp. “ _Fine_.”

As Draco stalks off toward the back with the assistant at his side, Harry shouts after him, “change is good!”

 

 

“Oh!” Hermione gasps in delight as she opens the door. “Hello!” She says it like she’s surprised to see them, even though these plans have been in place for several weeks. Harry covers up his snort of laughter with a half-arsed cough. “Come in, come in.” She ushers them inside and they follow her on the familiar path to the Granger-Weasley dining room.

Ron is already at the table, plate full and a fork halfway to his mouth.

“Ronald,” Hermione hisses as she takes the seat beside him.

“S’not like they care,” Ron points out after swallowing. He looks up to nod at Harry and Draco both, but his face goes slack much the same way Hermione’s did at the door. “Bloody hell, what are those?”

Harry doesn’t bother hiding his laugh this time. “New, s’what they are.”

Ron continues to stare even as Harry and Draco take their usual seats across the table. “No, no, they look good mate. Wasn’t talking about those. You’ve _always_ had glasses.”

Harry, from the corner of his eye, watches Draco scowl into his potato hash and chicken breast. The shimmering silver and gold frames slide down his nose minutely, and Draco pushes them back up with a huff.

“Took some convincing,” Harry explains as he spears a bite of chicken and potato on his fork. “But he took the exam ‘ventually.”

“I think they look very nice,” Hermione chimes in with a kind smile at Draco.

“He’s just sour because none of the other frames looked as nice on him,” Harry supplies helpfully, not even wincing when Draco kicks his shins under the table. “He says these aren’t as stylish as they ought to be.”

Ron has gone back to noisily chewing but he’s eyeing Draco as if the blond might go off like a firecracker at any second. Ron looks thoughtful, and rather like a chipmunk with his cheeks stuffed full of food. Harry meets Hermione’s gaze briefly and they share a grin.

“They look good,” Ron says, this time directed at Draco. “Distinguished.”

Hermione gapes at Ron though he doesn’t acknowledge it. Harry chokes on his bite of food and Draco freezes with his wine glass half to his lips. The moment stretches, although Ron seems oblivious to it. He continues to eat and slowly the rest of them follow.

“Thank you, Ronald.” Draco says it awkwardly; he’s still uncertain around the two of them. Hell, sometimes he’s still uncertain around _Harry_. It’s weirdly endearing in this moment, Harry thinks. There’s a faint splash of color to Draco’s cheeks and it glints against the gold on the inner part of the frames.

Ron just shrugs. A beat of silverware on plates and the muffled sound of chewing before, “Hey, ‘Mione, think I should get glasses?”  


End file.
